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“She’s really yours,” Jacqueline confirmed. “No one here will take her from you, I promise.”
Each girl was given something special of her own when she first arrived. Many chose a doll or sewn animal—those had been made by Mrs. Hayton and Miss Flanagan—or a book from among the carefully selected tales placed in here for that purpose. The stuffed toys provided gentle comfort, while the books provided an escape into a realm of hope and beauty.
“Mum once took me to where they sells flowers to the nobs,” said Penny, breaking Jacqueline’s reverie. “The irises were me favorite. Mum bought me one. I kept it dried, but the colors all faded away after a while. I’ll name her Iris.”
“I think that a lovely name.” Smiling, she bent and took the doll’s hand between two fingers. “I’m pleased to meet you, Miss Iris—I know you will be good company for each other.” She straightened. “Have you considered a new name for yourself yet?”
Penny nodded. “Violet,” she whispered. “They were me mum’s favorite.”
She speaks of her mother in the past tense. Already she is beginning to put her old life behind her. “Excellent choice. You are certain?”
Another nod.
“Then from this moment on you will be known as Violet. As for your surname, I thought Gladstone would do nicely.” Because she was so young, Jacqueline thought it best to choose for her. “What do you think?”
“I like it,” the girl said after a moment. “It sounds happy.”
Jacqueline smiled. “I thought so, too. Tonight you will be introduced to some of the other girls, and tomorrow you can tell me if there are any in particular you might like to become better acquainted with.”
There were two rooms with empty beds now that Suzette and Coralline were gone. In particular, she felt Violet would make a good replacement for Suzette. The child was quiet and thoughtful, and the girls in that room—especially Janet—would be a good fit. But she would let Violet help her make that decision.
“Headmistress?”
“Yes?”
“What if they don’t want me?”
She knelt and tucked a stray wisp of hair behind Violet’s ear. “Everyone here is wanted, my dear.” She smiled at her young charge. “I must go prepare for dinner. Mrs. Sloane will be by to fetch you in a few minutes.”
“Do I have to go?” came the plaintive reply she’d expected. “Can I not just stay here like I did last night?”
“I know it can be difficult meeting new people, but you cannot remain hidden away forever. Best to get it over with quickly and have done,” Jacqueline said firmly, standing. “You will soon have many friends here, mignon.”
Violet’s face was doubtful, but she nodded. “I never had no friends before. I was the only brat Madame let stay in the house—said it was ’cos she liked Mum, an’ I didn’t bother no one.” Her gaze flicked to the window, where outside the light was fading. “It’s nice here—I like the window—but it’s terrible quiet. Not like our attic. At night I could hear the music below an’ everyone laughin’. But Mum never let me go down after dark. She locked the door every night.”
Jacqueline’s throat tightened. The child had been locked in an attic for her own safety, her nightly lullaby the sounds of debauchery. Still, it could’ve been much worse. Something of her inner feelings must have shown on her face, because Violet’s cheeks reddened.
“I know what you’re thinkin’—but me mum ain’t bad even if she is a whore!” the little girl said with tears in her eyes. “She left me when she went to work, but she was always there when I woke up. Always.”
The word “whore” from the mouth of a six-year-old would’ve shocked anyone but Jacqueline. “Your mother is not a whore,” she told her, hating the foul taste of the word. “According to the letter that accompanied you, she is currently employed as a kitchen maid. And you are not a brat. I don’t ever want to hear you refer to either her or yourself in such insulting terms again. Your mother is a maid and you are a young lady and a scholar. Do you understand?”
Violet’s bottom lip trembled. “Yes, Headmistress.” The child squirmed. “Wh-what is a whore?”
Mon Dieu… Well, at least she now knew for certain the girl had been sheltered from the worst of it. “An ugly word, and not one I want you using ever again. When you are older and if you are still curious about it, I will explain—but not now. It’s time for me to go downstairs. Mrs. Sloane should be here any moment to collect you.”
“I’m sorry,” blurted the girl, halting her exit. “Madame called Mum…that word. She shouted it at her when Mum told her I’d never work there. It was the day we left. I told Mum I’d help out if it meant we could stay, but she only got angry and said she weren’t havin’ me turn out like her.” Her head drooped, and her voice wobbled. “I’m the reason she had to leave. If it weren’t for me, Madame would never have got cross with her.”
“Your mother loved—loves you,” Jacqueline said softly. “She wanted a better life for you, one she could never give you in that place. But she also left for her own sake—the work she did there was not safe. She is much better off where she is now. It’s a great sacrifice both of you made, but a necessary one, if either of you is to succeed.”
At that moment, Mrs. Sloane appeared to escort their young charge down. “Ma’am?”
“Yes, thank you—give me about ten minutes before leaving, and all will be ready,” Jacqueline told her. “And Mrs. Sloane, this young lady’s name is Violet Gladstone.”
Mrs. Sloane turned a cheery smile on Violet. “And a lovely name it is! Come, dear. Let’s put a fresh apron on you.”
Jacqueline left the pair and hurried downstairs. On her way through, she couldn’t resist taking a quick peek down the hallway to see if Mr. Woodson was still there. A pang of disappointment shot through her at the sight of his darkened doorway. Stop it. The whole point of avoiding him was to bring about a return to sanity.
She could hear the murmur of high voices as she approached the dining hall. Silence fell when she entered, and she nodded approval. “Miss Gladstone will be down in a few minutes. I want you all to remember how you felt when you first arrived and give her a warm welcome.” She cast her gaze across the sea of faces, meeting the eyes of those she wanted to encourage in particular.
